A Tale of Two Lovers
by catfishii
Summary: serious out-of-character moments within a half-there plot. it actually feels really good to be able to purge my brain of unwanted stories : R R if ur out there and reading, plz! ON HIATUS.
1. ONce UPon A TIme

**A/N: Eventually, I **_**will **_**incorporate all of those hackneyed phrases that Mr. Black told us never ever ever to use in a story. However, I can't remember the list. So I'm guessing. :D**

**Cookies and flowers to the person who can name the most clichés for me! **

**A cupcake to the person who can name the allusions and clichés I put in this story!**

**Disclaimer: I wouldn't buy this even if Dickens was giving it away for free.**

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Chapter 1

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, in a land 3,000 miles and across the pond away, known as England, there lived a beautiful girl named Lucie Manette. She was the absolute vision of purity—blonde hair, blue eyes, clear skin, voice like silver and a black-and-white view of the world. She lived with her father and mother in a nice house with many flowers and beautiful things. She was happy with her life.

One day, tragedy struck. Her mother fell ill with an incurable disease. Lucie stayed up, determined to make her mother better, but nonetheless, she faded away, like a flower in winter. The night she died, her mother whispered, "Be strong, little Lucie. Mother loves you very…much…" Her eyes closed and her chest rose no more. Her father mourned, the animals mourned, their friends mourned. Lucie mourned the most.

But, time stops for no one. Life continued on, only slightly emptier from the loss of a dear life. Lucie and her father grew close to the point of him chasing off suitors whom he deemed unworthy. Lucie blossomed into a beautiful young woman and years passed, quietly, like a stream.

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**A/N: I have nothing to say besides how much I wish I could have incorporated the first paragraph of **_**A Tale of Two Cities**_** in here. It has the most **_**beautiful **_**parallelism ever. But nooo, it's copyrighted. Shit. Well, my sign is ©infringement, so THERE! HA! You got OWNd US Gov't! (erm, don't actually take this seriously, cuz then I'd be in quite the fix o.o)**

**Oh, and updating will be fairly quick…I'll be gone soon.**


	2. ENter, STepmother!

**A/N: NUu! Don't hurt me! Second chapter up and plot is moving at a snail's pace…it seems like this is always the problem for me -.—" but I have a surprise in store~, so bear with me! Again, cookies and kudos for the person who helps me with clichés…I think there's a distinct lack of them.**

**Disclaimer: I hate this book and its insane tonal shifts.**

Chapter 2

Enter, Step-mother!

Lucie was sixteen when her father came home with a woman. She was surprised. She knew her father was courting a woman, but she didn't know _who. _"Who," Lucie exhaled slowly, holding the page of the book she was reading down. "Are," she said rising from her chair, closing the book as she did so. "You?" she deadpanned as she finally looked at her father and the woman.

This woman was no real looker. Dead, ash-blonde hair, make-up caked on to hide blemishes and pale, watery blue eyes. The extravagant black dress she wore didn't do anything to flatter her either. If anything, it just made the woman look even more…blegh. If Lucie was the epitome of life, love and recalling, the mystery woman was the example of a withered daisy.

"Erm," her father, Alexandre Manette, shifted nervously. "Darling, this is the woman I've been courting…The widow, Lady Morrigan." Lucie raised a delicate eyebrow. "Ehm…yes, well, I decided to bring her home today to let you two meet each other and to tell you that we're getting married." Manette shifted nervously from foot to foot while the Lady Morrigan continued to stare uninterestedly at Lucie. Lucie, facing her father, calmly blinked. "Eh…anyways," her father continued father feebly. "She has two splendid daughters and I'm sure you'll get along _just fine."_

Lucie continued to examine nothing in particular, apparently deep in thought. She could thinly veiled malevolence emanating from the woman in black. It frightened her, but she daren't let her father know. She watched in silence.

Soon enough, the two were married. The woman and her daughters moved into the villa and the once peaceful waters of Lucie and Manette's life was disrupted by the large, plunking stones that were Lady Morrigan and her two daughters, Therese and Aggrawater, both as ugly as the Furies of Hell and with a temper to match.

Then, tragedy struck the household yet again. Lucie's father was in a horse-riding accident. He died and left everything to her. Including the step-bit—I mean step-mother and step-sisters. Needless to say, they dressed her in rags and forced her to do all the cooking and cleaning, with the servants. Duh. But Lucie remembered her mother's words: "_Be strong, little Lucie…" _and held her head up against her revolting step-family.

**A/N: Dear readers, instead of hearing me complain about a past school book (damn it to the confines of Hell), help me pick out music for viola, piano and voice (all separately, ofc) that follows the theme of at least one of the four seasons (no. no Vivaldi, please). I'll be on hiatus for a while, too, due to a lack of access to a computer, so updates will slow.**


	3. MY ANgel

**A/N: This is where the surprise starts…I'm thinking that the last to chapters were purely introductory. Eh, well, kudos to the person who tell me what two fairy tales I have combined and the authors of those two :)**

**HAve you noticed how the chapters seem to be getting longer and longer? I think it's getting easier to write, too. Ah...the wonderful flow of words that increase like a rushing river...oh, and this is completely unbeta'd. I just write what I think, no planning. My conventions are fairly good, too, so at least it's not a total piece of crap. :D**

**Oh, and if you've been reading this and have no idea who the characters are, this IS a fanfiction, idiots. Go check out the original, unabridged version **_**A Tale of Two Cities **_**by Charles Dickens and spend two and a half quarters analyzing it—your LA skills are guaranteed to improve, but your brain is also sure to melt from unadulterated archaic language and unjust romantic irony…Enjoy!**

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Chapter 3

Engagement to Carton

"LUCIE!" her stepmother yelled from her bedroom. Lucie heaved an inwardly sigh. "GET OVER HERE!"

"Yes, step-mama" Lucie called, rising from the floor she was scrubbing. She walked at a steady pace, back straight and hair silky and golden, down the hallway, up the wide, curving stairs and down another hallway to her step-mother's bedroom. When she reached the door, she paused.

"Well," her step-mother had seen the shadows she had thrown in the strip of light underneath the door. "Get in here!" she demanded.

Lucie complied. "What is it that you want, step-mama," she said when she reached her step-mother's bedside.

"I have decided that you have grown to the age of marrying and leaving the household," her step-mother said, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh?" Lucie also narrowed her eyes.

"Yes," her step-mother amended, getting out of bed and slipping her robe on. "The man is a Mr. Sydney Carton…he should be arriving right about…"

There was a knock on the door. "…now," her step-mother grinned. "He's _so _punctual. Now hurry and go make yourself presentable." Her eyes flashed with warning of what would happen if Lucie should protest.

"Yes, step-mama," Lucie said turning around to go to her room to change out of what she was currently wearing, a worn grey cotton work dress, as the sounds of the other maid, Pross, let Carton in. Her step-mother had already moved to get dressed, herself in a rich, dark plum dress.

Carton sat in the parlor, sipping at the weak tea, patiently waiting for his betrothed to come and finally get to meet him. He wondered what she truly looked like. When his father, Stryver, had signed the marriage contract in his son's name, he had told Carton that she was the most beautiful golden thing anyone had ever seen. However, his father was also known for his rather loud way of over-exaggerating things, so this woman might actually turn out to be nothing more than a two-bit prize for any gentleman's collection of dolls. He sipped his tea and sigh. He sipped his tea and looked at the clock, sipped his tea again and looked at the door where his bride was to appear any minute now. Any minute…and there she was, resplendent in her sweet blue dress. For once, his father had _not _been exaggerating. Her blue eyes seemed to stare deep into his soul, laying bare all the secrets, dreams, and false aspirations that ensconced his heart. She was…purity…an angel, in human form, too holy, too above someone of his lowly nature…then, his heart's desire spoke.

"Step-mama, is this the man I am betrothed to?" God, even her _voice _was like that of an angel, so pure and sweet and heavenly it was. Then, her step mother, Lady Morrigan, walked in, killing his vision.

"Yes," she said, crisply, cleanly, giving nothing away, almost menacing in her dark, severe dress walking in behind her. "Mr. Sydney Carton, meet my step-daughter, your betrothed, Lucie Manette."

Carton hurried to Lucie and raised her hand in a chaste kiss on her knuckles. Lucie looked away, averting her gaze like a proper lady. "Hello, dear Lucie," he murmured, bashful of his unholy presence near her beautiful angelic body. Lucie stiffened, unaccustomed to such awkwardness.

An awkward pause ensued.

A minute passed in silence, the three of them standing there, Carton still hold Lucie's hand.

Then, the door resounded with another knock.

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A/N: Well, that was interesting. The Cinderella part of this is drawing near to a plot twist, thus changing it to….well, you'll have to guess. I am considering making you wait for three weeks, just to be sadistic. :)

**Anyway…music choices for viola, piano, singing (no Vivaldi, ty) help! My aunt says she'll help, but I don't trust her that much, fave of mine though she is. Which brings this thought to my head: why do I trust complete strangers, but not my close family and friends? Got an answer? Tell me, please. **

**Oh, and if you haven't noticed, or haven't read the book, then you should know that I'm dragging random facts out of the book this fanfic is based off of. somewhere along the line a love rival will appear and the story line will mesh just a smidge more with the book's. just sayin'. **


	4. BIrthday BAll PReparations: Part 1

**A/N: Right, chapter 4 is up and we develop the Cinderella part. I'm back from hiatus, if you haven't noticed, with all summer school work done, besides the LA stuff (cuz I'm L-A-Z-Y and a P-R-O-C-R-A…nvm, I'll finish it later) :) but I wrote chapter 4 before I left…yeah, I'm just cruel like that. **

**Cookies for the person who fulfills the previous requests, the difference is, it's for this chapter. NO I DON'T FRICKING OWN **_**A TALE OF TWO CITIES. **_**THAT BOOK WAS MY LITERATURE HELL FOR ALMOST HALF A YEAR! I'D BE CRAZY TO WANT TO OWN THIS. Stupid as Hell if you don't know that already. No offense.**

Chapter 4

Birthday Ball Preparations Part 1

_Knock knock knock! _

The knocks came more insistently now, as if someone had something urgent to say.

"Where is that good-for-nothing maid, Pross?" Lucie's step-mother muttered. "She should be the one getting the door."

_Knock knock knock!_

"Lucie! Get the door!" her step-mother barked at Lucie, annoyed by the useless staff.

"Yes, step-mama," Lucie demurred. She gently lifted her hand from Carton's grasp and left the room to get the door. Carton stared after her glowing form like a wounded puppy.

Lucie slightly intrigued by the urgent rapping on the door, _**q**_uirked an eyebrow. "Who could be knocking on the door?" she queried. She opened the door and immediately gasped and curtsied. "Oh my, a king's messenger? What message would he have for our household?"

The king's messenger, Jerry Cruncher, inclined his spiky, cap-covered head and said, "Madam, I will not lie, as I am just an honest tradesman. The prince is to have an eighteenth birthday ball in three weeks' time. Being at just the right age to marry, his father is inviting every eligible maiden to the ball. These are the invitations." He held out four creamy envelopes, all stamped with the royal insignia. Lucie took them from Cruncher with reverence.

"Thank you. I will notify my step-mama in due time," she said, curtseying once more to his bow and closing the door. Then, she quickly walked back to where her step-mother and Carton were waiting. "Step-mama, the king's messenger was knocking on the door. He told me that the prince was holding a birthday ball and that the king wanted to pick a bride for him as well. Two birds with one stone, no?" she said, brightly.

"I am afraid, my _darling," _her step-mother drawled. "That you will no longer be eligible to attend the prince's ball because you are betrothed to this fine young man here." She looked at Carton, as did Lucie. Lucie's expression, however, was one of pleading. Her already large blue eyes seemed to grow larger and more beautiful as she silently pleaded Carton to let her go, even if she _was _no longer eligible.

Carton, the poor sucker, couldn't resist. "Oh, let her go, Lady Morrigan," he said, relenting. "It's not every day you get invited to attend a prince's birthday ball, after all."

Lucie looked delighted. "Thank you, thank you, Carton!" she trilled. She would have hugged him, but etiquette deemed otherwise. Instead she clasped his hand in between her two slender ones. "Thank you!" and with that, Carton was the happiest man on Earth.

Her step-mother, as not to make a fool of herself, said, "Alright. You can go—but on one condition: make your step-sisters' gowns as well as yours." Upon hearing this, Lucie was only slightly deterred.

"Fine, then I will need to get started!" Lucie declared with a determined gleam in her eye.

Before Lucie could run off, Carton hurriedly interjected, "Ah, allow me to provide you with the materials needed to make the dresses. I'm sure my father won't mind me helping my betrothed with her projects."

Lucie's smile, if possible, grew wider. "Oh really? Thank you very much, Carton!"

"Please, call me Sydney."

Lucie smiled even more. "Very well, _Sydney. _Now, please excuse me. I must begin designing the dresses!"

The three weeks passed by in a hurry. Sydney Carton became a regular sight at the Manettes' villa, carrying bolts of fabrics, spools of threads and laces and strings of pearls and other materials needed to make the monstrous confections that Lucie had drawn up for her step-sisters. She knew what her step-sisters liked…anything that was silk, velvet, damask for the bodice and skirt, both of which were elaborately decorated with frills, bows and sequins, a garish green for Therese and a putrescent pink for Aggrawater, which were their favorite colors, even Lucie would never be so base as to slander what they liked. She had also drawn up a much simpler dress for herself—blue to compliment her eyes—except the plans had gone missing, though she didn't yet know it. She was too busy, flitting around, measuring, modeling, and fitting her sisters. They constantly wanted alterations to be made to their dresses. More frills! More bows! More pearls! Poor Lucie had no time to even _think _about her own dress, let alone hunt up the plans in order to _make _it. And Carton watched all of it from afar, near as he was; he still worshipped his angel, as he called Lucie, in secret.

Carton also knew where the missing plans were. He had them and, seeing as Lucie would be run ragged from dawn to dusk making her own step-sisters' gowns, had also taken the liberty to hire a seamstress to make Lucie's ball gown. He wanted her to be the most beautiful girl in the ball room at the prince's party.

One day before the ball, and everything was done—except for Lucie's own gown. While her step-sisters were busy prancing and flaunting their new dresses, fresh off the sewing machine, Lucie was frantically searching everywhere for the plans for _her _special dress. She searched everywhere—attics, basements, stables—not one room was left unsearched through. By nighttime, Lucie was despondent. She couldn't find the plans, nor the time to make the dress, anywhere! Now she'll never get to go to the prince's party! Not while she looked like this!

"Step-mama?" she timidly asked when she reached her step-mother's bedroom.

"What is it?" her step-mother half-growled sitting in front of her vanity mirror.

"Uhm…I'm afraid I don't have the proper attire to go to the prince's ball…"Lucie trailed off, tears fresh in her eyes.

Her step-mother narrowed her eyes. "Well, well, well…I'm afraid that just won't do," she murmured, an evil grin spreading across her face as she continued to stare at her reflection. "I guess you _won't _be able to go to the ball after all. Not unless you can pull together a dress in—" she looked at the clock that sat next to the mirror, which read 6 "—the next 24 hours and still be ready to go."

Lucie trembled. "No," she said lowly. "I'm afraid I can't do that with the materials I have left." She left her step-mother sitting at the vanity and closed the door gently. When she was out of earshot from the door, Lucie ran to her room and flung herself onto the bed, sobs ripping through her chest. She cried herself to sleep that night.

The next morning, Pross opened the door to the villa to see the face of Carton standing unexpectedly on the step.

"It's a little _early, _isn't it?" Pross questioned, referring to Lucie.

"Possibly," countered Carton. "However, there is something that I must tell Lucie immediately.

"Aye, well, I'll go wake 'er up, then," said a more than a little intrigued Pross. "I know you can show yourself to the parlor?"

Carton nodded, wondering why Pross felt the need to go wake Lucie up personally. "I'll wait for as long as it takes."

Carton made his way slowly to the parlor, lost in his thoughts as Pross rushed up to wake the weeping, sleeping blonde, hoping that everything would be alright, hoping that Carton was the slim chance that Lucie would need in order to go to the ball.

It was nearly noon when Lucie finally came down, Pross in tow. Carton had eaten through the plate of cookies and sandwiches that the cook had given to him in sympathy as well as a pot of tea. He was steadily sipping his fourth cup of tea when Lucie entered the room. She, his angel, looked like she had gone to Hell and back.

"Carton, how nice to see you at this early hour," Lucie said, attempting to generate some of her usual warmth into her eyes and failing. Inwardly, Carton was devastated. Lucie had gone back to acting as if they were mere acquaintances. However, the thought dissipated as soon as he saw the expression on Lucie's face.

Carton immediately put down his cup of tea and took Lucie's hand when she held it out for him to kiss. "What's wrong?" he asked, standing up and gently squeezing the offered hand instead of kissing it.

"I am…unable to attend tonight's ball because of an inadequate wardrobe," Lucie whispered, devastated.

Carton raised an eyebrow. Pross patted Lucie's back sympathetically.

"Actually…"he began.

_BANG! _There was a loud crash and a shriek. "LUCIEEEEEEEE!" yelled one of the step-sisters. "MY DRESS RIPPED! FIX IT!"

Lucie's eyes flickered briefly. "'Actually' what, Carton? Quickly, before my step-sisters set the hounds after me for not hurrying up to fix up their gowns." She smiled slightly at the little joke she had made.

Carton squeezed her hand again. "Meet me in the courtyard of your villa at 6:30 tonight. I have a surprise for you—you _will _go to the ball tonight."

Lucie's eyes truly lit up upon hearing this and Pross smiled. Carton _had _been that small chance.

"Now hurry…fix your sister's dress so that they may leave sooner!" Carton said. "I'll be waiting." He smiled kindly at her and spun her around, giving her a gentle push in the direction of the noise.

Lucie left, looking back once in gratitude, and mouthed "Thank you."

In that one moment, two things happened, with Pross there to witness both. Lucie turned and her entire being seemed to float and glow and she seemed lighter all of a sudden, as if a large tragedy had been lifted. She left happy, in a state of pure bliss, imagining the beautiful evening as she danced down the hallway. Carton, at that exact same moment, also seemed to come alive. But Pross was scared of this glow. This glow was the glow of a martyr. Someone who was utterly devoted to the thing he loves, to the point of obsession, to the point of willing to do whatever it took to satisfy the need of what he loves. Carton was frightening.


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